


Draw What You Know You Can't Touch

by KLegnard



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Artist Logan, M/M, Stripper AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:48:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLegnard/pseuds/KLegnard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is a stripper trying to survive in New York. Logan is a starving artist looking for the perfect muse for his painting. Can they help each other out, and will they find more than success along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Flashing lights, sweat, and music. That was all James was aware of, but he had long since gotten used to it. Not all talented performers hit it big and got a record deal, no. some had to work for it, and when you hit rock bottom, there was only one thing for you to do. James, being attractive enough, with his shaggy brown hair and slender form, had no trouble getting into this line of work. Stripping.

"Hey! Honey!" an drunk man called from the audience. This was followed by a series of cat calls and whistle. "I have a hotel room not too far from here. How's about we make use of it."

It wasn't unusual for James to receive such comments in his line of work, and therefore had no trouble ignoring it. He just kept dancing around the platform, shedding piece after piece of his sparkly, too-tight costume. Hopefully, the obnoxious audience member would just give up and enjoy the show, but with Jame's good looks, it was more likely the drunk would try to follow him home, or worse. He'd had his fair share of wacko's in the few years he'd worked at the club.

It seemed that the man was growing furious that his suggestion had not been well-received. "Hey, slut! I was talking to you. Ah, What the hell. like I'd want a cunt like you anyways."

By now, most of the audience's attention had turned to this man. He wasn't a regular customer, so no one could put a name to the face. The unknown man shoved his way through the audience, to multiple complaints, and was nearing the platform James was positioned on. He jumped over the barrier separating the audience from the strippers and was soon raising a fist to James, who turned away to shield his face from the blow.

"Oi! Jett! Let him be." came a voice, also belonging to someone James didn't recognize.

"Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?" The man, Jett, turned to face the other stranger, a boy that looked about James' age, who had dark hair and chocolate brown eyes, which gave James a chance to move out of the way of Jett's fist.

"Probably something better than resorting to my fists," came the stranger's reply.

"Whatever Nerd-Boy. I'm out of here. You can have your whore. " Jett turned and jumped off of the stage. Satisfied that Jett was leaving, James' 'hero' did the same, letting the door slam shut behind him.

.o0o.

"Really? Jett tried to attack a kid at a strip club?" Camille seemed incredulous. She and Logan sat in a coffee shop waiting for their drinks to come. Logan had told her about the events of the previous evening, leaving out the part about how he was the one who confronted him. he just said it was some stranger. She took that to be the truth, far more interested in what the boy he attempted to punch looked like.

"I mean, he had to be hot, if Jett was that into him." Camille inferred. He was, but Logan wasn't about to admit that he thought so.

"Or..." Logan started, "He could have just been really drunk."

Camille pouted. "Come on! What did he look like?"

Logan sighed. "He was...attractive."

Camille shook her head. "You and I both know that that's not what I meant."

"Whatever. How was your night?"

"Uninteresting," Camille tore at one of the packs of sugar at their table. "What about you? Find a new muse for your work?" She was referring to the painting Logan was going to create, at least, after he found out what to paint. He figured it was hopeless. None of the shapes seemed to fit, and the color never clicked.

"Yeah, it's okay." He lied. Camille could tell, but even if she wanted to call him out on it, she wouldn't have time because their order number had just been called.

"I'll go get our coffee!" Logan jumped up from the table, running to the counter before his friend could speak.

"Yeah mom...no, I won't let fame get to my head,yes...okay, love you too...bye."

.o0o.

James closed his phone with a loud snap. He hated lying to his mother, but he also hated the idea of her finding out her only son was a male stripper in the slums of New York. He moved away to follow his dreams, and if she knew his dreams had resulted in a run-down apartment shared with his co-workers in downtown New York City, well, she wouldn't be pleased.

One of his said co-workers approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. It was Carlos, one of the more tolerable of the five other boys he roomed with. Except... Carlos had a slight affiliation for a certain helmet. He had even begged their boss to let him use it as part of his gimmick. Somehow, he got it approved.

"You need to tell her the truth eventually, man. She will find out."

"Yeah, but until then, she can keep thinking that her son is getting a record deal." James turned to face him. "I just wish..."

"Yeah, James, we all do. But it wont happen. As much as we'd all love to become famous..." He trailed off there, but James knew what he was going to say.

"I know, Carlos, I know."

Their conversation was then interrupted by their other roommate, Kendall asking them if they were going to 'get their asses up for dinner or what?'

.o0o.

Logan was lost. He was done. The thick stack of sketch paper that had previously sat on his desk had dwindled down to a few sheets. Most of it had ended up crumpled in the trash or thrown on the floor. The pen in his hand was nearly out of ink, and calluses covered his skin, yet he still had nothing to show for it.

Angrily, he stood, and pushing his chair back, he reached for the Jacket hanging on the door in his shitty apartment. He would find a muse, even if it was the last thing he did, and he figured the local park would be a good place to start.

.o0o.

James had started coming to the park a few weeks after moving to New York. He found it was a nice release from the stress, work, and disappointment.

He now sat on one of the old swings, gently rocking back and forth. It was relaxing, and he would often sit like that for hours at a time.

James watched as a small kid, accompanied by his mother, ran to the nearest slide. The pair reminded him of the days he would spend at the park with his mother back in Minnesota. He felt nostalgic for a moment, but that feeling was soon replaced with fear of letting his mother, and himself, down.

"I miss you," he whispered to himself.

"Oh, missing me already? And to think, I haven't even introduced myself yet."

James nearly fell backwards off the swing at the sound of the familiar voice, if a pair of hands hadn't caught him.

"Oh, sor-" The stranger began to apologize but he switched gears, "Hey, wait. I know you. You're that stripper from last night! I'm Logan, by the way." He held out his hand, and James took it lightly in his own.

"I-I'm James?" He was still taking in the cheerful boy, and his voice wavered as he spoke.

"You don't sound so sure about that. Sorry for being so... Hyper." Logan seemed to have mellowed down a bit.

"yeah, why are you so excited? It's a rare thing to see around here."

Logan nodded in agreement, "I finally found my muse, that's all."

"Oh, what's she like?" James felt that though Logan was a perfect stranger, he would be safe talking to him. Logan did, after all, save him from getting beaten up.

"Um, I was thinking you." James looked taken aback.

"Dude, I know you saved my ass and all, but I don't know you. you could be a pervert or something." This made sense to Logan, and it would have occurred to him sooner if he hadn't been so happy about finding his muse. In all honesty, James was excited that he could have this opportunity to get his face out into the public. Who knows? Maybe he might catch the eye of a modeling agency. He could model. It was nothing like singing, but it worked.

"Tell you what." Logan said, "I'll meet you here tomorrow at the same time...four-oh-two PM, and we'll go for coffee. If you still think I'm a pervert, you can leave. If not..."

"Deal." This time James stuck out his hand, and Logan took it.


	2. Swings, Art, And Other Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four-o-clock arrives, and James Diamond can easily be found at the park on Maple street, pumping his legs back and forth to get higher on the swings.
> 
> Logan, on the other hand, is nowhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's so short. Sorry.

Four-o-clock arrives, and James Diamond can easily be found at the park on Maple street, pumping his legs back and forth to get higher on the swings.

Logan, on the other hand, is nowhere in sight. James knows that Logan could easily have been held up, and may be a few minutes late, but it doesn't to much to stall his nervousness. What if he got stood up? It wasn't like it was a date or anything, but still. It hurts.

Four-oh-one. Still no Logan. James swings higher and higher, air whooshing past his head. Seconds pass. He remains the only person in the park.

Four-oh-two. Logan is late. James is almost able to see over the tops of the trees now, yards off the ground. Ten minutes pass, James slows down. more time flies. Feet hit the ground, and the swing stops.

James stand and turns, and there, right in front of him, is Logan.

"Where were you?" James asks, attempting to conceal his anger, "You were late."

"No, I wasn't." Logan replies, confused.

"It's like, four thirty."

"Four twenty four," Logan corrected him. James just rolled his eyes. "I was here the whole time," Logan continued, "doing this." He produced a large sketchbook from his bag and flipped to the fourth page. Holding it up for James to see, he gave a little 'tah-dah!'

"Oh," James gasped. The image before him was breathtaking. It was of James swinging, feet high above the trees. James looked peaceful and relaxed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "That's-that's- wow."

"Thanks," Logan giggled, sliding the sketchbook back into his bag.

"So, aside from being pissed at me for not being here," James's face reddened at that,"How was your day?"

"Pretty good. You?"

"Well, I got accused of tardiness," Logan teased, "And I drew my first acceptable picture in a long time. I guess the inspiration helped."

James smiled, and grabbed Logan's hand. "You want inspiration? Come on, you need to try something."


End file.
